The night sounds were stirring
Cats purring moths whirring
Scents alluring
Fairies from their lofty
Moorings descending
Joining in
The nightly symphony
It’s not just the photography
The words that go with it are too
When one just shares the photo only
I get a certain feeling of eschew.
We said here is where
We will always abide
Just upon the edge
Of this calm seaside
Such a gentle tide
We paid no heed
To those moving
Further inland
The tides peaceful
Rising
Without warning
Came the rogue wave
Overturning the calm
By this time
The gentle tide
Was long gone
We were ripped
Awake
by john clare
I had to paddle ever so quietly
Above circled the dragonfly patrol
I knew in their hammock I wasn't supposed to be
Spiders on the trunks pointed and said, Go!
The recent floods had opened the long impassible channel
A narrow passage in the shade of the bald cypress
Gliding slowly I was transported as in a spell
Deeper into the shadow of an uncoiling shimmering caress
The dragonfly guardian awoke me at the hyacinth gate
Cocking his smiling but stern face as he scolded me
Good thing he gained my attention before it was too late
Agkistrodon piscivorus was poised to drop from the tree.
As the kayak emerged into the piercing hot light
The dark waters rippled from a splash
Wolf spiders scurried to gloat another doom
The Osprey clutched the moccasin as he passed.
By John Clare
Few there are and far between the Fodder Wings
Those with whom heaven and nature sings
As Blake conversing with Ezekiel beneath the tree
Or communing with the critters as did Assisi.
Who hear Sandhill Cranes and long to fly
Stuffing sleeves with hay from barn lofts touching sky
Misunderstood seers scolded yet loved for the leap
Limping alongside Yearlings in the piney woods deep
The eyes of perception clear as the Juniper Run
Everything temporal appearing in the Infinite One
Little John's upon Patmos Hammocks caught in the spirit
As beside in shade the signifying Angel sits
Naming the creatures passing through the earthly paradise
From ole Slewfoot to the spotted Flag, knowing all
Heaven and nature as One in a Fodder Wings life
As from hay lofts high soar the strands of straw.
by john clare
In our garden of Springs hope
We plowed our rows with care
Already tasting the coming harvest
Such a perfectly sown garden there.
Soon with the sun came the sprouts
Peas,okra, carrot,squash and corn
Nice picket fence keeping pests out
We hummed in harmony the broken morn.
Daily we came with hoe in hand
To dare a weed choke our seeds
This was destined to be a garden grand
One to supply all our tasty needs.
It's not certain when the weeds choked
Somewhere between the drought and deluge
Or was it when like plants the weeds looked
I suppose even a hoe looks good with enough rouge.
All remains in this Summer misery
Okra so hard we now have nice nails
Carrots the size of Winky’s pinkie
A regular nightmarish veggie tale.
So grow in your glory you weeds
Your trickery lasts but for a season
Winn Dixie again this family feeds
Even our China seeds committed treason!
Cats purring moths whirring
Scents alluring
Fairies from their lofty
Muses descending
Joining in
The nightly symphony
It’s not just the photography
The words that go with it are too
When one just shares the photo only
I get a certain feeling of eschew.
No one has said, I miss your posts, where are you. And I’ll be surprised if anyone does. Maybe only Melissa.
Every reverie must include flying zebras
with orange trumpets announcing
the arrival of emerald wings delight
Johnclarestokes
I held deaths
Cold cold hand in
the hot Florida sun
for a moment
refreshing
Soothing
and I was for an
instant wanting this
cool cool death
Beads of sweat
dripped beneath the
blue stripe suit
the man in white lowered
the cold corpse into the
Cool cool ground
Sweet Florida heat
keep me from this
cold cold sleep.
by john clare
The field grass tips dripped sweet dew
Sparkling lush as it fell
Randomly about the feet
of the Watcher entering through
The gate seldom used
In the old days long forgotten
The Watcher came frequently
The pathway like cattle lines
With shade from the Oak tree
Who made the prayer was unknown
Why now after so many years
So hardened had we grown
Cracked dry the etch from tears
And from the houses cries arose
The Watcher silently stood in shadow
A bowed head with eyes closed
As diamonds dropped below
It was not considered miraculous
Not even registering a like
It was in reality quite awful
This Watcher in the night
For only God could have sent
Such a one to true the scales
To make the hardened repent
To quiet the poor souls wails
Afternoon showers came
The sun returned with the humid heat
But things were not the same
And what of these diamonds under our feet?
